


real heroes wear scrubs

by orphan_account



Series: M.C.'s Nurse Bucky AU (otherwise called: idiot boys make a lot of mistakes) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse of italics, Bucky is a nurse, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, M/M, Natasha knows all, Run-On Sentences, Steve Needs a Hug, Tony Is a Good Bro, angst in chapter 5, bucky "i have a headache" barnes, bucky barnes got saRCAsm, but he don't know it, clint is my favorite, he just needs c o n f i d e n c e, he's a good nurse, modern!Bucky, no sexy times y'all, sam is the only one with sense, shrunkyclunk, steve is kinda an idiot, we'll see where this goes lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: While Stark was dialing numbers on his phone, most likely faster than humanly possible, Bucky tried to realize what the fuck he had just gotten himself into.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fic... oh boy. I wrote this in a chocolate-infused haze at 2 in the morning, so I hope whoever reads this (if anyone reads this) will like it :)))
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE (6-6-17): someone help my aching heart b/c this fic just hit 300 kudos. I love you all.

It wasn’t every day you saw Tony Stark getting a prostate exam. 

 

So Bucky, unsurprisingly, was pissed as fuck when Dr. Leeman pointed at him with a “you there” and told him to man the phones since the receptionist was out getting coffee.

 

(Which she totally wasn’t, by the way. She was outside chatting with one of the other nurses, and they could be seen through the glass doors)

 

Being consumed in his fury and scribbling down notes on charts, it totally wasn’t his fault that he didn’t notice that Dr. Leeman had finished his exam. And it totally, extra totally wasn’t his fault that he didn’t notice someone standing in front of the desk until said someone cleared their throat, put his elbow on the counter and leaned his head on his hand. Judging by the sunglasses (they were indoors, why), and trademark facial hair along his jaw, there was no question on who the asshole grubbing up the pristine marble countertop probably was. 

 

“ _Hey_ there.”

 

“Hello Mr. Stark.”

 

“Please,” taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his blazer, “anyone who’s a ten or above is allowed to call me Tony.”

 

 _Oh my_ God.

 

“Okay, Mr. Stark, do you need something? Tea?” Bucky said, ignoring the flirting and gesturing to the bounty of food laid out next to him. “Coffee? Donuts? Or are,” raising up the platter and waving them under Stark’s nose, “danishes more your style? ”

 

“No no no,” he said, pushing back the platter. “I don’t think I want to ever want to eat ever again seeing as I was just _violated.”_

 

Bucky snorted, “I’m sorry it was so traumatic for you.”

 

“Hey, don’t give me lip young man,” Stark snapped. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you. At least semi-serious.You were in the room before the doc kicked you out, right?”

 

“Yessir.”

 

“Well, you see, Ms. Potts, or Pepper, if you will, ambushed me while Leeman was checking my, uh, area.”

 

“Your area.”

 

“My area.”

 

“Are you referring to your prostate Mr. Stark?” Bucky replied bluntly, holding back a smirk while he finished writing down a sentence.

 

“Am I referring to my-” Stark stuttered, “ _yes,_ oh my God. Stop acting so smug. So anyway, as you can tell, I was a little bit vulnerable in my, shall we say, compromised state, and combining all of this with my never ending love for Pepper, but mainly how much she scares me, I was reminded that I promised to hire someone full-time to take care of us at the tower.”

 

“So you mean, a nanny?”

 

“No I don’t mean a _nanny._ Like a full-out, certified medical professional. Pep says it doesn’t make any sense, fiscal or otherwise, to fly in specialists day in and day out when we can just have one living in the tower.”

 

 _Is this guy for real._

 

“And you're asking,” pointing to his heart, “me?”

 

“It was implied, yeah.”

 

Shell shocked, Bucky stared at him. “You’re asking me, a nurse who you barely know, to keep you from dying in a rain of fire.”

 

Stark nodded his head. “Yep.”

 

 _Good Lord._

 

Bucky raised a hand to his temple and reached for the another chart in front of him.“I’d hardly consider myself a specialist, Mr. Stark. I hardly believe I’m even qualified for this.”

 

“I don’t mean a _specialist_ specialist, obviously.”

 

“Then what _do_ you mean?”

 

It was in that moment that Tony Stark began to bang his head on the counter.

 

“C’mon,” Bucky prodded, scribbling info on the patient’s chart. “Use your words.”

 

“You’re killing me here pal.”

 

“I tend to have that effect on people.”

 

“Look,” Stark raised his head off the counter and looking him straight in the eye, “just listen okay? For like two minutes. Then you can make all the sarcastic comments you want. So just listen.”

 

He had his hands clasped together on the counter, and was rubbing his thumb against his left hand. He remembered this from pysch--a self-comforting gesture.

 

He cleared his throat. “Alright, I’ll listen.”

 

Stark immediately beamed back. “Cool, cool. So, our jobs, obviously, put us in extreme danger almost every day. And because of that danger, we get hurt, seriously hurt, nine times out of ten. Hence, we need someone to heal us, patch us up. To watch over us and make sure we don’t die. Or kill each other, whatever. And as much as I’d like to, we can’t install a revolving door for doctors to come in every other day we get a life-threatening injury. That’s why I asked you. You’re a nurse, not a doctor, don’t think I don’t know that. But what I do know, is that you’re kind. You helped that old lady with her bags walking into the building. You held that kids hand when he was getting his shots. And if your eyes had lasers Dr. Leeman would be an old memory because you and I both know the receptionist wasn’t getting coffee. You’re human, you’re empathetic. I don’t need another professional asshat. I-- _we_ just need someone like you.”

 

_Huh._

 

“That was, uh, quite the speech Mr. Stark.”

 

Chuckling, he reached to rub the back of his neck. “I’ve been spending too much time around Cap. He’s rubbing off on me.”

 

 _Oh. Right._

 

Bucky straightened his posture against the chair. “So, hypothetically, if I take this job, will I be taking care of--”

 

“--the Avengers? Yeah, tots.”

 

_Jesus H. Christ._

 

“That is, a lot of pressure.”

 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, the Avengers Tower is now filled to the brim with hot, eligible superheroes,” Stark said, giving an over-exaggerated wink.

 

“You really know how to drive a bargain.”

 

“I really do.”

 

He stared down at the table and picked at one of the stickers on a patient’s chart.

 

Quietly, he asked, “what if I fuck it up? I don’t think I could handle having an Avenger’s blood on my hands. I don’t think anyone would be able to handle that really.” He sighed, “I graduated from school three years ago, and this is the only job I’ve ever had. I draw blood, I--I write charts. I babysit kids who are waiting for their moms. I don’t know how to handle death rays or--or nuclear attacks. I just, don’t know how.”

 

Looking up, Stark was staring at him. Full-on, if not creepily, staring.

 

“You, uh, gonna talk?”

 

“No. I’m going to keep staring at you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you’re being an idiot.”

 

Gaping, he asked, “how am I being an idiot while I have actual worries about whether or not I can keep the Avengers from dying?”

 

“Because that’s exactly the reason I want to hire you in the first place.”

 

 _What the_ fuck.

 

“Chill, buddy boy. Listen to the great Tony Stark and his words of wisdom. Anyone, literally anyone, would jump at the chance to work in the Avengers Tower. To be near legit superheroes every minute of every day. But here you are. Worrying, about us. Worrying about our health and well-being and that is why I want to hire you.”

 

It took less than a minute for Stark to put his head down on the counter again. 

 

“Oh God, I have been spending too much time around Cap. I’m at risk of spontaneously bursting into song and dancing around with a trash can lid.”

 

“You wish.”

 

Without lifting his head, he poked Bucky in the middle of his chest. “Don’t make me fire you.”

 

Laughing, Bucky responded, “you haven’t hired me yet.”

 

“Not yet.”

 

Bucky took a breath.

 

Stacking the charts together and grabbing sheets of paper, he said “Would I have to live in the tower?”

 

Peeking an eye out from under his arm, Stark replied “Up to you. The more the merrier. You’ll be on call 24/7--super villains don't really adhere to our sleeping schedules.”

 

Bucky thought about it. He weighed the risks: killing an Avenger, killing the Avengers, getting killed himself. 

 

But then he remembered that despite working here for almost 3 years, his boss didn't even know his name. 

 

 

What does he have to lose?

 

 

Fuck it. 

 

“I’ll take the job.”

 

Stark immediately perked up off the counter, a blinding smile on his face. “Awesome. I’ll call Pepper now, we’ll get a contract together, oh my God she’ll be so excited. I am the _best.”_

 

While Stark was dialing numbers on his phone, most likely faster than humanly possible, Bucky tried to realize what the fuck he had just gotten himself into. 

 

Ten minutes after Stark paced around, yelling profanity through his phone, as well as copious amounts of sarcasm that could rival even Bucky’s, he was leaning on the countertop once again. 

 

“We got a contract. It should take a day or two to get it together, do a background check-- _for security’s sake,_ don't give me that face, and then we’re in business.”

 

Shaking his head, Bucky stacked the papers in front of him into neat piles. Whispering under his breath, he said “I already regret this.”

 

Oblivious, Stark continued, “well, I for one am extremely excited to see your face everyday.” He paused. “And it just occurred to me that I don’t know your name. That seems like something I probably have to know.”

 

“Took you long enough.” Running his hand through his hair, taking Tony’s hand in his grip, he said, “my name’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

 

“Bucky? What the hell kind of name is Bucky? No offense.”

 

“My parents wanted me to have a sense of humor.”

 

“Kudos to them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo... yah. I just really wanted to write a nurse!Bucky fic yknow, but idk when the next chapter will be up. Comments are appreciated, criticism is welcome, and if you wanna give kudos..... i won't complain


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha kicked the back of his leg. Clint winced, “please.”
> 
> Bucky was already looking for bandages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy here we go

“Goddammit, _NATASHA WE DON’T SHOOT THE NURSE_.”

 

It was by far the most interesting welcome Bucky’s ever had. 

 

Two days ago he had quit his job and cleared out his apartment. 6 hours ago he arrived at the Avengers Tower to take a polygraph, be subjected to the most embarrassing Q&A session ever (“Why did you have a picture of young Joseph Stalin in your dorm room?” “Have you _seen_ the picture?” “Yes.” “Then you know why.”), and to then finalize the contract since he wasn't proved to be a Hydra agent in disguise. 3 hours ago he brought his boxes up to his “apartment,” which was pretty much his own floor, unbelievably. 10 minutes ago he was given the grand tour of the building and shown the med room that contained equipment Bucky used to salivate over. 

 

And now, 2 seconds after walking into the common room with Stark on his heels, he had a gun pointed at him 

 

The pistol cocked against Bucky’s forehead, the red-headed woman watching him with narrowed eyes and a calculating expression. “Stark, explain.” 

 

“Okay okay, so remember how I promised Pepper I would hire a doctor or nurse to stay here and make sure we don’t die?”

 

“Yes,” she responded. The gun remained pressed against Bucky’s head. 

 

“Well,” Stark gestured with both his hands to Bucky’s form, “meet Bucky. He’s a nurse.”

 

Stark seemed reasonably calm about this whole situation. Bucky was not.

 

She cocked an eyebrow. Her eyes looked Bucky up and down, noticing his trembling hands and wide eyes. Steadily, she took her finger off the trigger, and Bucky released a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

 

“You use the people I recommended?”

 

“Yes,” Stark nodded profusely, “he’s cleared.”

 

“Hm.”  

 

Slowly, she pulled the gun back, secured it in her waistband, and strode away without so much as a sound. 

 

Bucky could’ve cried with relief.

 

But instead, turning his head to Stark, Bucky reached to the fruit bowl on his right and began pelting him with oranges. 

 

“Dude, hey-- _quit it!_ ”

 

“Is this a thing I’m going to have to get used to!? People holding guns to my head?” Bucky shouted. “You didn't even tell them that they were going to have a random stranger living in their house?”

 

“Well to be fair, this whole thing was kinda spontaneous!” Stark yelped, diving behind the couch. 

 

“I had a gun pointed at my head! A fucking _GUN!_ If anything, I thought it would be the other guys pointing a gun at me, but _NO. TURNS OUT I WAS WRONG,_ ” grabbing the final orange from the basket and gripping it tightly.

 

Stark peeked his head over the back of the sofa. “You done?”

 

Clutching the orange in his fist, Bucky glared at Stark’s stupidly un-oranged head. 

 

Folding his arms on the top of the pillows, Stark smirked. “Your aim sucks.”

 

Bucky slowly released the orange from his hand and heard it squelch on the floor.

 

Clicking his tongue, Stark eyed the mess on the floor. “Someone’s going to have to clean that up.”

 

Bucky stared at him, exasperated. Turning on his heels, he stalked out of the room.

 

“Wait Barnes--” Stark sputtered, “--can you at least get a mop?”

 

He didn’t look back.

 

Stark stared forlornly at the squashed orange. He couldn’t remember the last time he used a mop.

 

Stomping off, he muttered “I’m an _engineer._ ”

 

<<< >>>

 

“I’m sorry I pointed a gun at you.”

 

Bucky banged his head on the bottom of the table in surprise. _“Fuck.”_

 

Crawling out from under the desk, he rubbed the back of his head and saw Black Widow leaning against his doorframe.

 

Examining her nails, she continued, “I should have realized that if you were walking around with Tony you probably weren’t a threat. But he doesn’t exactly have a great track record of making wise decisions.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “That really makes me feel better.”

 

She glanced up at him, hardened eyes meeting Bucky’s own and he stilled.

 

“I’m trying to say I was wrong, you dolt,” she stated. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 

Looking down at her cuticles once again, she continued, “I didn’t mean to scare you. Tony didn’t tell us anyone was moving in, and I was surprised. I don’t react well to surprises. So I’m sorry.”

 

Bucky shifted on the floor of the med bay. He didn’t know an assassin could even be sorry. 

 

Maybe he was the exception.

 

Rising off the floor, Bucky hopped onto the table and dangled his feet above the ground.

 

“It’s okay,” he replied, reaching to the back of his head to continue rubbing it. “I mean,” he chuckled, “I’m a very threatening individual.”

 

A small smile formed on the Widow’s face. She pushed off the doorframe and walked until she was right in front of Bucky’s swaying legs. She reached out a hand.

 

“I’m Natasha.”

 

He took her hand, trying not to be immediately cowed by her intense grip. “Bucky.”

 

She raised an eyebrow.

 

He sighed, “my parents really liked James Buchanan. God knows why.”

 

Releasing Bucky’s hand from an iron grip, she placed both hands on her hips and set her mouth in a straight line. “So you’re a nurse?”

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

She hummed, then swiftly turned and sauntered out of the room, leaving Bucky to stare wide-eyed until she returned, dragging a blond man along by the ear and depositing him by Bucky’s swinging feet.

 

“Tell the nurse what’s wrong Clint,” Natasha directed the man, folding her arms and staring daggers at the back of his head.

 

“Well,” he murmured, picking at a bandage on his thumb. “I, uh, have a fork stuck in my neck?” the man (Clint) said, “and I would really like you to take it out.”

 

Natasha kicked the back of his leg. Clint winced, “please.”

 

Bucky was already looking for bandages.

 

<<< >>>

 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Bucky said, analyzing the wound in Clint’s neck. “But, uh--how?”

 

“I was testing out if certain cutlery could be used as weapons.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“So I shot them with my bow.”

 

“Of course,” Bucky replied, monotone. “Why would you throw a fork, when you have a perfectly good bow with you?” Clint hissed when Bucky dabbed the wound a bit rougher than necessary. “Sorry.”

 

“If it makes you feel better,” Clint replied, “I hadn’t tried the knife yet. So this could’ve been way worse.”

 

Massaging his temple with his free hand, Bucky muttered, “that doesn’t help at all.”

 

“You should probably get used to this,” Natasha chirped from her spot in the corner (‘great visibility’ she reasoned when he asked). “Clint is very inventive. And Cap is essentially a human battering ram.” Digging through the candy bowl, Bucky could hear a tiny ‘whoop!’ when she found a red lollipop.

 

By getting a better look at the wound, and using Stark’s 3D imaging tech (Bucky died and went to heaven when he found it shoved in a corner), the only thing that Bucky had to do was pull out the fork, stuff Clint with antibiotics and make sure the bandage was secured around his neck.

 

Pulling on gloves, Bucky listened to Clint whining at Natasha. “Will you hold my hand?”

 

She pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with a pop. “No.”

 

Betrayed, Clint tried to kick her from his chair with Bucky trying to keep his head still. “But why _not?_ ”

 

She smirked. “You have cooties.”

 

“What--I don’t have _cooties._ Your _mom_ has cooties.”

 

“Clint please,” Bucky insisted, “keep your head still. I just need a second to pull it out and dress it and then you can play with as many forks as you want, okay?”

 

But Clint shook his head, pouting. “Not if Nat doesn’t hold my hand.”

 

“I won’t do it,” she replied, sticking the candy back in her mouth. “He has cooties.”

 

Bucky shot her a dirty look. She smirked, and crossed her legs on the nearby desk.

 

“Are you both always this difficult?”

 

“Only around people we like,” Clint remarked.

 

Annoyed, but mostly done with the entire situation, he grabbed Clint’s open palm, and the other hand was secured around the fork. Bucky pointedly ignored Natasha’s elated expression.

 

“Don’t move, I’m pulling it out on three. One.”

 

Clint snickered.

 

“Two.”

 

“That’s what she sa--”

 

“Three.”

 

_“OW.”_

 

Bucky threw the fork on a tray and placed the bandage on Clint’s neck, ignoring the swarm of profanities now spilling out of his mouth. Swirling him around, he waved the pill bottle in front of Clint’s face.

 

“These are antibiotics. You take them every day, and if you forget I will run you down with a snowplow. Got it?”

 

“I think he does,” an unknown voice sounded from the doorway.

 

Turning, Bucky soon found himself facing the human battering ram himself.

 

And he was wearing sweatpants. Bucky’s mouth instinctively dropped open.

 

_This should be illegal._

 

“Sorry I didn’t come down earlier--I was cleaning up the kitchen.” Blue eyes and pursed lips (Mother of God) were now focused completely on Clint “There were forks _everywhere._ ”

 

Chuckling nervously, Clint rubbed his neck and stared at the floor. 

 

Bucky, who felt himself staring at the Captain way to intensely, hastily stared at the floor as well, with his cheeks turning slightly pink.

 

So of course, it was the perfect moment for Steve Rogers to stroll across the room, stand right in front of Bucky’s stool, stick out his hand and flash a blinding smile. “Hi, I’m Steve.”

 

Bucky tried not to die.

 

Pulling off a glove, he took his hand, smiling back. “Nice to meet you. The name’s Bucky.”

 

Steve hummed. “Nickname?”

 

“Pfft, nah. Mom wanted to one up her sister.” He whispered, “she named her kid _Kale._ ”

 

Steve giggled, “Yeah, I think you got her beat.”

 

Bucky found himself smiling even harder. He made him giggle. _Fuck yeah._

 

And it was insanely cute.

 

Hastily letting go of Steve’s hand, he tucked a piece of stray hair behind his ear and tried not to turn any more red.

 

Natasha, eyeing Bucky carefully and with a small smile on her face, grabbed Clint and Steve and all but threw them out of the room, telling them to go secure the landing pad for the incoming helicopter. Bucky watched blonde hair and broad shoulders walk away, looking over his shoulder and sticking his tongue out at Natasha.

 

Jesus God Almighty.

 

Leaning against the doorway, Natasha crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

 

Bucky felt a bit of déjà vu. 

 

“So,” she prompted. “Are we going to discuss this?”

 

Groaning, Bucky leaned back until his spine clanged against the metal table.

 

“I’m so fucked aren’t I?”

 

“You think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... completely blown away by the response I got from the first chapter. I am stunned. Thank you so much for everyone who took the time to leave a comment or kudos, I love you all so much. The love of this fic has propelled me to write a second chapter today, and here it is!! But I won't be posting for at least another two days--I have an exam I need to study for, sorry about that. But I promise, y'all will have something to read before the weekend if it kills me. Once again, criticism is welcome, kudos and comments are totally appreciated.
> 
> (Plus, people who think Natasha is cold and unapologetic can physically fight me)
> 
> Come say hi on [my tumblr!](http://gunderdone.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Plus, here's that pic of [a young Joseph Stalin](https://www.google.com/search?q=young+joseph+stalin&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjZwITkifXTAhWGQSYKHXAAC5gQsAQIJQ&biw=1440&bih=748#imgrc=a-fmFwDqUOjc8M:)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He likes Sam. Sam has common sense.

“You _like_ him.”

 

“I don’t _like_ him, Nat,” Bucky snapped, viciously wiping down a glass beaker. “I talked to him for less than a minute. The only thing we did was learn each other’s names.”

 

She flicked him in the ear. “Don’t be dense, I know flirting when I see it,” she said. “You’re already gone on each other.”

 

Rubbing his ear, Bucky glared at the glass vial. “We literally just met.” He shifted his glare to Natasha. “And he’s Captain _America_.”

 

“Really!?” Natasha shrieked, rapidly covering her mouth with her hand and widening her eyes. “I had no idea!”

 

“Okay, this?” Bucky gestured to Natasha’s comical form. “This is not helping at all.”

 

“James, look,” Natasha lowered her hand from her face and raised two fingers. “One: Of course I know he’s Captain America, you dope. Doesn't mean he isn’t a normal person.”

 

Bucky frowned. Grabbing the beaker, he put it under the table, muttering “I’m not a _dope.”_

 

“And two,” she let her hand drop down to the counter, “it took Clint and I two months to make him smile. Two _months_ James.” Bucky watched silently as a fond smile slowly spread across her face. “And you made him laugh in less than a minute. He barely knows you and you made him laugh.”

 

Leaning her head on her palm, she started drawing shapes on the top of the table with a tip of her finger. “You would be good for each other. It doesn’t take a genius to see.”

 

Bucky leaned back in his chair. Brows furrowed, he studied Natasha, who was still drawing random figures on the table’s surface. “But I don’t even know him.”

 

Natasha stilled, looking up to meet Bucky’s eyes with her own. Bluntly, she stated “You’re in denial.” She leaned in close, so close their noses touched, and whispered, “And you totally want to see him naked.”

 

Sputtering, Bucky pushed her off while she fell away cackling, whirling around in her swivel chair. “I don’t--oh my God _Nat.”_

 

“You _totally_ do,” she grinned. “Don't think you can lie to me James Barnes.” She tapped the side of her nose, chair still spinning. “Super awesome spy, remember?”

 

Bucky massaged the sides of his temples. “I need Tylenol.”

 

Pushing out of his chair and stalking out of the med bay, Bucky didn’t reply when Natasha called after him. “Don’t think you’ll be able to avoid this James! Life finds a way!”

 

<<< >>>

 

Walking into his bedroom, the only thing on Bucky’s plan was to lie in bed and watch Law and Order.

 

Having a ten foot spider napping in his bed was not on today's plan. 

 

“WHAT THE _FUCK!?”_ Bucky screeched, bolting out of his room and almost braining himself on the hallway floor.

 

Alternatively, when he turned a corner, Bucky barreled into a rock-hard chest, both bodies crashing to the floor, Bucky landing on top of the whoever the fuck he just ran into. With both of his hands splayed out on both sides of the stranger’s head, Bucky looked up and saw steely blue eyes gazing up at him..

 

Irony is a bitch.

 

“What’s wrong,” Steve said, gravely. Reaching his hands out, he laid them on Bucky’s shoulders and gently shook him. “Bucky.”

 

His brain shorted out.

 

“There’s a--uh,” Bucky stuttered, “spider.”

 

_Smooth._

 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “A… spider?” he repeated slowly, taking his hands off Bucky’s shoulders (unfortunately).

 

“It was,” he swallowed, “really big.”

 

“How big.”

 

“Like, ten feet?”

 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s big.”

 

_Oh, I bet that’s not the only thing that’s big._

 

_Jesus._

 

Sighing, Bucky rolled off Steve and onto the floor next to him. Knitting his hands together, he put them behind his head and started tapping his foot against the floor.

 

“How much do you want to bet that it was one of Stark’s experiments gone astray?”

 

“Oh, it totally was.”

 

“Hm.”

 

Silence fell between them, Bucky’s jittery leg the only sound in the empty hallway. 

 

At least until the sound of scuttering legs echoed down the hall. Both Bucky and Steve leaned up, and they found eight eyes staring back. 

 

Steve whispered, “Don’t move. It’s vision relies on movement.”

 

“What is with you people and Jurassic Park references?” Bucky muttered back. “It can _see_ us Steven.”

 

“Well maybe I don’t want to be mauled by a giant tarantula, _James,”_ Steve hissed back, side-eying Bucky and his jaw clenching. 

 

The spider blinked at them. 

 

“You gotta admit,” Bucky whispered, slowly turning his head to face Steve, “‘mauled by giant tarantula’ isn't the worse way to go.” He shrugged, “it could be worse.”

 

Letting go of a tiny sigh, Steve murmured “You’ve been spending too much time with Clint.”

 

The spider slowly lifted one of it’s legs, moving forward, and both boys froze. 

 

“Bucky?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“How good are you at running?”

 

“I was in track and field in high school.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Cuz--” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand, yanked him off the floor and dashed down the hall, screaming _“RUN.”_

 

Turning corner after corner, Steve pulled Bucky through a pair of doors, slammed them shut, and promptly slid down to the floor. 

 

They didn't even know if the spider had bothered to chase them. 

 

Panting, Bucky let out a low whistle from his spot on the ground, laying a hand on his chest. 

 

“Excuse me while I just sit here and die.”

 

Chuckling, Steve ruffled through his hair with his free hand. “Sorry about that. I know it was kinda, impulsive.”

 

He looked over at Bucky, his skin glowing and not even slightly out of breath.

 

It was just plain _rude._

 

“All it was doing was staring at us, you know.” Shaking his head, he gazed over at the doors. “Fucking weird.”

 

“Umm,” Bucky smirked, _“language.”_

 

Steve glared at him. 

 

“I was in the army Buck. In the _40’s.”_ He pointed a finger at Bucky’s chest, “I’ll say whatever the _fuck_ I want.”

 

Bucky looked down at the finger pressed into his shirt, hoping and praying that Steve couldn't feel how his heart surged at the new nickname. Gazing back up, he flashed a coy smile and watched a grin form on Steve’s face, replacing the impassive facade before it.

 

“Oh God,” Steve sighed, “if you bring back the swear jar I will lock you outside.”

 

Laughing, Bucky fell back on the floor, shoulders shaking and completely oblivious to the brilliant smile on Steve’s face, watching Bucky’s pink mouth and crinkled eyes.

 

<<< >>>

 

They were still holding hands.

 

<<< >>>

 

“I just want to know the scientific purpose for turning a poor, innocent spider into a gigantic fucking _killing machine,”_ Sam spit out, being held back by Natasha and Steve so he wouldn't physically pounce on Stark. 

 

Bucky hummed in agreement. He likes Sam. Sam has common sense. 

 

Being tasked to tend to the wounded if (and when) a fight would break out, he was sitting cross-legged on the couch and sipping on a bottle of Gatorade. Natasha had reached over and offered him a hair tie from her wrist, and now Bucky’s hair was tied in a ponytail hanging daintily off the back of his neck. 

 

(He didn’t notice the pink dusted across Steve’s cheeks when he gathered his hair together with the band in between his teeth.)

 

“Well I don't have a scientific reason, per se,” Stark said, “but you gotta admit it was kinda cool.”

 

 _“Cool?”_ Same gritted out.

 

“Yeah. Cool.”

 

Bucky saw smoke come out Sam’s nostrils.

 

Stark was either incredibly dense or suicidal. 

 

Writhing out of Steve and Nat’s suddenly loose grip, Sam lunged and barreled into Stark, knocking them both onto the ground. 

 

Looking at Steve and Nat, both had a similarly devious smirk on their face as they watched Sam and Stark wrestle on the floor, with Sam soon trapping Stark in a headlock.

 

“Not so strong without your suit are you, metal head?” Sam smirked. 

 

Stark gasped in Sam’s grip, grabbing at the arms around his neck. Turning to Steve, he pleaded, “c’mon Cap, you're not gonna let your dear old teammate be choked to death will you?”

 

Steve blinked at him. 

 

Turning on his heel, he pointed to the kitchen with his thumb. “I’m getting hot chocolate,” Steve stated. He looked at Bucky. “You want some Buck?”

 

“Sure,” Bucky replied, hiding the Gatorade behind one of the pillows and feeling a slight flush rise up on the back of his neck.

 

Steve nodded, and strode away with his hands in his pockets, whistling innocently while Stark yelled at him through Sam’s arms.

 

Bucky might be in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay studying is lame so I banged out this chapter over the last two days. Stucky is coming in full force and now Sam is here too I guess?? Comments, kudos and criticism are highly welcome (especially comments, your kind words keep me going), and I should get the next chapter out on Tuesday or Wednesday :))
> 
> Come say hi on [my tumblr!](http://gunderdone.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don't lie.”
> 
>  
> 
> “You're not exactly George Washington.”
> 
>  
> 
> “Well, how would you know?” Steve grinned, “I’m pretty old.”

“So,” Bucky tapped the glass box, “what are you going to do with her?”

 

“Keep her, duh.” Stark was tinkering with the Iron Man mask at the other end of the lab. “Guard dogs are so cliché. But a guard _spider?”_ He let out a low whistle. “Bad guys will shit a brick first then run straight in the other direction.”

 

The spider’s eyes were following Bucky from inside her box. She lightly bumped her head against where he had tapped the glass.

 

“How’d you even figure out she was a girl?” Bucky asked.

 

“Google.”

 

Bucky leaned his head on the box, and she did too.

 

It was kinda endearing, really.

 

“Y’know,” Tony remarked from his table, lab goggles on and shirt sleeves rolled up. “That’d be cute if she didn’t have eight eyes.”

 

She didn’t find that comment amusing, turning her head and narrowing her eyes at Stark. Bucky rubbed the glass, cooing “Don’t worry. _I_ think you’re cute.”

 

Turning her head back to Bucky, she brushed her head against the glass, keening.

 

“I’m the one that _made_ you,” stammered Stark, rushing over to the box and glaring at Bucky. “And she tried to kill _you.”_

 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “She didn’t even chase us.” He rubbed his finger against the glass, the spider gazing back at him. “Cuz she likes me.”

 

Stomping away, Bucky heard Stark muttering “Stupid, ungrateful, little _bug.”_

 

<<< >>>

 

“She should have a name, don’t you think?”

 

Jerking awake, Bucky leaned up from where his head was resting against the glass. Bleary eyed, he turned and saw Steve sitting in a chair beside him.

 

“What?” Bucky rasped out, rubbing his eyes with his fists and stifling a yawn.

 

“For her,” he jerked his chin towards the box, crossing his arms behind his head and spreading his legs.

 

Bucky tried not to think about how much he would like to crawl between them.

 

“I’m not really that creative,” he yawned. “You're the artist, you can figure it out.” He slowly raised off the ground and drowsily moved to Tony’s work desk, searching through the bottom drawers. 

 

“Ah yes, because I can draw that automatically means I’m good at coming up with names.” Shifting in his chair, Steve slightly tilted his head. “Exactly how tired are you?”

 

Bucky raised his head over the edge of the desk, and gave Steve the most dead-eyed stare he could manage. Steve beamed back. 

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Uh,” Steve looked at the clock. “3-ish. A.M.”

 

“For fuck sakes-- _why?”_

 

Steve looked down at the floor, smile fading and a downcast expression replacing it. “Couldn’t sleep.” He rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet.

 

“Oh,” Bucky replied.

 

_I’m an ass._

 

He folded his arms on the table and rested his head on top of them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Steve shook his head. “Not really.”

 

“Okay,” Bucky nodded. Reaching down to the drawer, he pulled out a blanket and pillow, and walked over to Steve. Offering him the pillow, he sat down on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Steve put the pillow behind his head and crossed his arms, legs still spread wide.

 

Slowly, he leaned back into the gap between Steve’s legs, resting his head down on one of his thighs.

 

Steve didn’t pull away.

 

Softly, Bucky said, “she kinda looks like a Dolly, doesn’t she?” Feeling his eyes slowly shutting, he muttered “or maybe a Dot.”

 

Steve hummed. “Yeah. Dot’s good.”

 

Watching the dark hair spilled across his leg, feeling soft breaths ghosting along his thigh, Steve leaned forward. Gently asleep, Bucky’s eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, soft lips parted, and Steve thought _I am so gone._

 

<<< >>>

 

Natasha found them the next morning, Bucky draped over Steve’s lap and having one of Steve’s hands settled in his hair.

 

She totally, 100% didn’t take pictures.

 

<<< >>>

 

“Just,” Sam threw his fork down on his plate, have you not asked him out yet?”

 

 _“Sam,”_ Steve groaned and put his head down on the table. “This is harassment.”

 

“Just because you made me lunch doesn't mean I’m not gonna be honest with you Steve,” Sam replied, taking a sip of his drink.

 

Steve looked up at him. “I hate you.”

 

“You love me.” Pushing away his plate, Sam pulled Steve’s head up, squeezing his cheeks and looking him dead in the eye. “Ask the boy out.”

 

“No,” Steve muttered.

 

“Why?”

 

“I don't know if he likes guys.”

 

“Please--he didn't even look at Natasha in her yoga pants. He does.”

 

“I don't even know if he likes _me.”_

 

“He _totally_ does.”

 

“I’m kinda his boss.”

 

“Stark is his boss, he pays for all this shit. You’re just a control freak.”

 

“I’ve never even _kissed_ another guy.”

 

“First time for everything.”

 

Steve paused. Looking at the table top, he muttered, “I’m not good for him.” Raising his eyes to Sam’s, he continued solemnly. “He deserves better.”

 

Sam stared at him, let go off his cheeks, and promptly smacked him in the head.

 

Steve squealed, raising his hands up in defense. “What the hell?”

 

“You’re an idiot. ‘One of the greatest strategic minds of our generation’ and you have the emotional intelligence of an eleven year old,” Sam shouted. “‘I’m not good for him’--you are _not_ allowed to go all emo on me Rogers. I won’t _allow_ it. You just need to get off your ass and _go for it.”_

 

Sam aimed for another hit, making Steve scramble out of his chair, catching one of his legs in the bars of the table and falling flat on his back.

 

While Steve was cradling his head, Sam leaned over him. “Looks like you could use a nurse.”

 

<<< >>>

 

“Can you follow my finger please?” Bucky held up a finger and slowly moved it in front of Steve’s face, shining the penlight in his eyes.

 

“I’m _fine,_ Buck,” Steve groaned, reluctantly following Bucky’s finger. “Supersoldier healing remember?”

 

“How about we let the medical professional decide that, shall we?” Bucky smirked, turning off his penlight and putting it in his pocket. “Turn around please,” Bucky asked.

 

Grumbling, Steve shifted on the stool, facing away from Bucky. “I _barely_ hit my head.”

 

“Well, unless college severely mislead me,” Steve could feel Bucky’s fingers pushing into his head, “a head injury is still a head injury.”

 

Twiddling his thumbs, Steve tried to stay still while Bucky examined the back of his head. After a minute, sighing, Bucky twirled him around and gave him a stern glare.

 

“I hate supersoldier healing.” He frowned. _"Really_ hate it.”

 

Steve smirked. “So I’m fine?”

 

Bucky’s frown grew impossibly deeper. Pulling off his gloves, he muttered “You're fine.”

 

Grinning, Steve crossed his arms and tried not to gloat. 

 

Bucky walked over to the trash and threw in the gloves. Bracing his hands on the sides of the bin, he stared into it. “You know Nat took pictures of us?”

 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Really? When?”

 

“Uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “last night.”

 

Steve flushed. Uncrossing his arms and leaning forward, he replied “I don't really have a problem with it.”

 

Bucky scoffed. “Liar.”

 

“I don't lie.”

 

“You're not exactly George Washington.”

 

“Well, how would you know?” Steve grinned, “I’m pretty old.”

 

Bucky turned his head over to him, eyebrows knitted together. “Promise?” he asked.

 

Nodding his head, Steve said “I promise.” He smirked. “Besides, why would I be embarrassed?”

 

Bucky blushed, shrugging. “I dunno,” he rubbed the back of his neck, backing away from the bin. 

 

“Trust me,” he stood up and walked over to Bucky. Backing him up into the wall, he leaned over and put his hand over Bucky’s head, watching his mouth part and eyes widen. Looking at him, eyes hooded, he whispered “I’m not embarrassed.”

 

Bucky’s cheeks turned crimson. He thought, _he can't be doing this on purpose._

 

He stuttered, “well, I, uh, need to go see, Nat--” Backing out of Steve’s hold, he cursed _“shit,_ yeah, I need to go, Nat, nurse business, uh, see ya.”

 

Bucky all but sprinted out the door. 

 

Steve heard a banging at the window. “I didn’t think you’d actually take my advice!” Turning around, he saw Sam, hitting the glass and yelling “Are you _trying_ to kill him?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a hundred kudos??? I'm shook. I'm a writing machine. I know I said I would post this chapter next week, but fuck it. As always-kudos, criticism and comments (especially comments, holy fuck y'all make me so happy) are totally appreciated.
> 
> Btw, if the next chapter goes to plan, it might contain a lil itty bit of angst, but I'm not sure. I'll put a note at the beginning of the chapter, so you guys don't need to worry about that :DD
> 
> UPDATE: Oh my God???? I just got over 1000 hits???? I love you all so much??!?!?!?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love pain. warning for angst in this chapter.

Someone was knocking on his door. At 2 A.M.

 

Bucky was justifiably pissed.

 

Grumbling and shuffling out of bed, clad only in sweatpants, Bucky opened the door.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, still half-asleep. “God, what are you doing up so early?”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

Blinking open his eyes, Bucky looked up at Steve’s face. “Did you have a nightmare?”

 

Steve gritted his jaw. “What does it matter?”

 

“It matters because I care about you, dork.” Bucky gave him a tired grin. “Do you wanna come in?” He gestured inside with his thumb.

 

Steve stared at him, eyes empty. Bucky tried to ignore the slight panic building up in his gut.

 

“What’s wrong.” He asked. He slowly raised his hand to Steve’s cheek. “Steve--”

 

“I can’t do this anymore.”

 

Bucky froze. He jerked away his hand.

 

“Whatever this is, I can’t do it. I know I shouldn’t have done what I did--stringing you along like that, making you feel like we could be something more. But we can’t.”

 

Bucky’s heart shattered in his chest.

 

Steve’s face was stone.

 

He looked down at the floor, whispering, “are you even going to tell me why?”

 

Steve let out a slow breath. “No.”

 

Bucky wouldn’t cry. He _refused,_ but his eyes watered up anyway

 

“I think I deserve that much Steve.”

 

Steve didn’t respond.

 

The alarm sounded, echoing down the hall. Both of them jumped.

 

Steve started turned on his heel and walked down the hall. “Meet us in the conference room in five minutes.”

 

Hastily wiping a tear off his cheek, he muttered “Fuck you too.”

 

<<< >>>

 

“We have a situation.”

 

“Could you say that more seriously?” Stark sipped on his margarita, sunglasses on his face. “I want to get the full effect.”

 

Bucky passed behind him, plucking the drink out of hands and pouring it out in the trash. “No drinking before noon,” he stated bluntly to Stark’s betrayed face. 

 

“Anyway,” Steve continued, “a random wizard is galavanting around Boston, looting banks and using some spell to make people extremely, uh, _cheerful.”_

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Cheerful? God forbid.”

 

“What’s so bad about that?” Clint chirped, stringing his bow.

 

Sam sipped on his coffee. “I mean, I could understand relative happiness. But cheerful? Hell no.”

 

“People are walking in front of _cars,”_ Steve gritted out, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Because they are so happy and oblivious they don’t believe they’ll get hurt.” 

 

Clint hummed. “That’s not good.”

 

“You think?” Steve deadpanned.

 

“Yeah,” Clint smirked, “that’s why I said it.”

 

“Oh my God, we’re leaving in five minutes. Just--meet up by the helipad,” Steve groaned.

 

“Jeez,” Natasha said, rising out of her chair, “what has you in such a bad mood?”

 

Steve looked over at Bucky, leaning on the wall and pointedly looking anywhere but Steve’s face.

 

Steve sighed. “Nothing.”

 

<<< >>>

 

“Don’t be alarmed,” Natasha reassured, “he’s fine.”

 

“Bucky!” Steve grinned. He waved his fingers. “Hiii.”

 

“What the fuck.” Bucky said.

 

“He got hit by one of the wizard’s spells, we just have to wait for it to wear off.” Natasha was holding onto one of Steve’s arms while his fingers fumbled in her hair. “What are you doing?” Natasha asked.

 

“Braidin’ it.” Steve chirped.

 

Bucky rubbed the sides of his temples.

 

Natasha shoved Steve’s hands out of her hair, and then held his arm out to Bucky.

 

Staring at the arm, he looked back up at Natasha. “No.”

 

“I have things to do James,” she motioned to Steve with her head. “And babysitting is not one of them.”

 

Reluctantly, he grabbed the arm, glaring at Natasha as she nodded at him and walked off.

 

Turning his head to Steve, his smile was brilliantly white.

 

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky said “You’re not touching my hair.”

 

<<< >>>

 

While Bucky was organizing files at his desk, Dot napped in her box and Steve sat cross-legged on the couch, playing with one of Bucky’s rubix cubes.

 

Huffing, Steve threw the cube on the ground and pouted. “This is _hard.”_

 

“No shit Sherlock.” Bucky shuffled some of his papers, and Dot slowly opened one of her eyes.

 

Steve crossed his arms and stuck out his bottom lip. “There’s no reason to be _rude.”_

 

Bucky scoffed. “There are plenty of reasons for me to be rude, Steve.”

 

Steve bit his lip, eyes downcast. “Oh. Right.”

 

“Yeah. _Right.”_ He rolled his eyes, gripping his papers tightly, and one of his fingers slipped. Cursing, he looked at the small line of red on the pad of his thumb. 

 

Dot butted her head against the glass. Sticking his thumb in his mouth, Bucky shuffled over to the glass and rubbed his other hand against it. Dot blinked at him. 

 

Looking over at the couch, Steve was staring at him, mouth parted. 

 

“Oh _no,”_ Bucky growled, taking the thumb out of his mouth. “You don’t get to look at me like that anymore--you don’t even get to look at me. _Especially_ after all the shit you just pulled.”

 

Steve gazed down at his hands. “I didn’t want to hurt you Bucky, you have to know that.” 

 

“Well,” Bucky snarled, “you fucking did.” 

 

Stalking over to his desk, he hurled the papers onto his chair, trying to keep his voice level. “Then why the hell did you do it, if you ‘didn’t want to hurt me?’”

 

Steve chose not to answer.

 

“For fucks sake Steve,” Bucky snapped. “You were all over me yesterday-- _literally,_ all over me. And in less than 24 hours you went back on all of it, without any warning whatsoever, without even giving me a _reason.”_

 

“Buck of course I had a reason. I’m not some kind of _monster,”_ Steve shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

 

“Well how the fuck would I know that?” Bucky screamed back, pulling at his hair. “God.” He looked at Steve, eyes rimmed with red. “Was this all some kind of joke to you?”

 

“No.” Steve commanded, looking Bucky in the eye. “It wasn’t.”

 

“Then what the hell was it?” Bucky choked.

 

Steve took in a big breath, closing his eyes. Bucky tried to ignore the wet under his eyes.

 

“I have nightmares, y’know.” Steve whispered. “Not all the time--but I still have them. And they’re bad. Like, wake-you-up-and-you-don’t-even-know-where-you-are bad.”

 

He gulped. “I had one last night. You were in it. Someone had a gun to your head, some faceless figure, and they said ‘lets see how the great Captain America will survive without his boyfriend.’”

 

Steve looked up. “And they shot you.” He raised a finger and pointed it to the side of his head. “Boom.”

 

Bucky’s breath caught in his chest.

 

“It scared me. It scared me so fucking much. It made me realize that--I can’t risk putting you in danger Buck. You mean to much to me. And I’d rather you hate me than to risk you ever getting hurt.”

 

Bucky stared at him.

 

“Holy shit.” He announced. “Holy _shit.”_

 

“What?” Steve asked, head tilting in confusion.

 

“You’re an idiot.” Bucky moved a hand through his hair, a manic smile forming on his face. “I like an actual, 100% certified _idiot.”_

 

Steve frowned. “I’m not an idiot.”

 

Bucky crossed over the floor to the couch, bending over Steve, who was still seated on the couch. Cupping Steve’s face in his hands, he leaned in close. “You are.”

 

“So being concerned for your safety is idiotic?” he whispered.

 

“Don’t think I didn’t know what the risks were when I took this job, when I met you. I do, I still do.” He gripped Steve’s face even tighter. “But you’re an idiot if you think I’d give you up because of the _possibility_ of ever getting hurt.” 

 

He ran his tongue along his lower lip, the corner of his lip rising up in a smirk when he saw Steve’s eyes grow darker. “You’re Captain America. You can keep me safe.”

 

Bucky tilted his face, brushing their noses together. He moved forward, sitting in Steve’s lap and draping his arms around his neck. “I trust you,” he murmured, and thankfully, Steve got the memo, grabbing the back of Bucky’s head and finally pressing their lips together.

 

It was soft, slow, and sweet as sugar. Steve’s hands were grabbing fistfuls of Bucky’s hair, tiny sounds coming from the back of his throat. Bucky left his hands dangling off of Steve’s neck and tried not to spontaneously combust. They kissed and kissed and kissed until even Steve was out of breath, pulling apart and leaning their foreheads against each others.

Bucky grinned. “So I’m guessing the spell wore off?” He rubbed the back of Steve’s neck with his hands.

 

Panting, Steve smiled, eyes twinkling. “Do you want to go out tomorrow night?”

 

Bucky hummed, moving his hand and rubbing his thumb under Steve’s jaw. “Well, I dunno. How about you give me a minute to think--”

 

Steve shut him up with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo, so guess who had the stomach flu this weekend. It was me. Shocking. But I know, the b i g k i s s. These fuckers finally got their shit together.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter should be an epilogue type-thingy, but don't fret my lovelies, i'm working on a part two rn but I don't really know when it should be finished.
> 
> Kudos, criticism, and comments (mostly comments) are totally welcome, and if you have any fic ideas!!! yoo!!! totally yes!!!


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on,” Sam asked, putting down the scoreboard. “Or are y’all just going to be broody and mysterious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double upload??? fuck yeah

Natasha sipped on her coffee, sitting at the kitchen bar and reading the news on her tablet. Clint and Tony were having an arm-wrestling competition on the dining room table while Sam kept score.

 

She heard laughter from the doorway. Looking up, she saw Bucky leaning his head on Steve’s shoulder, giggling, their hands tangled together.

 

She coughed. Both boys froze, straightened their spines and let go of each other’s hands, hiding them behind their backs.

 

“We have pancakes.” She gestured to the plate with her mug. “If you want them.”

 

“Yeah Nat, thanks.” Bucky beamed at her, bolting towards the plate. Steve followed him, softly smiling at Natasha, and she found herself grinning back. His joy was infectious.

 

Clint was still wrestling with Stark. Without taking his eyes off Stark’s strained expression, he yelled at Bucky “Barnes! Cake me!”

 

“Sure thing bud.” Bucky shuffled over and stuck one of the pancakes in Clint’s open mouth.

 

“Thanks,” Clint replied, mouth full.

 

“No problem.” Bucky sat his own plate down on the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

 

“Dammit,” Stark whispered under his breath.

 

“What?” Bucky shoveled pancakes into his mouth, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

 

“Nothin’,” Clint replied.

 

“Steve,” Bucky called over to him, picking at his plate and frowning at the severe lack of syrup. “Get your ass over here.” He paused. “And bring the syrup!”

 

“Gimme a minute, I’m gonna talk to Nat,” Steve yelled back, plopping down on his stool and wincing.

 

Stark went into such a state of shock that when Clint finally knocked down his arm he fell on the floor.

 

“Fuck man,” Bucky peered over at him. “You good?”

 

“Peachy.” Stark said from his spot on the floor.

 

“Hey Buck.” Steve lifted his plate and gestured to the balcony. “Wanna eat outside?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky grinned, pushing out of his chair. “Let’s roll.”

 

Both sauntered out onto the deck, stupidly grinning, and Stark started to groan. “I can’t believe I’m out fifty bucks.”

 

“Neither can I,” Clint muttered, hands searching around in his pockets.

 

“Pay up boys.” Natasha stook out her hand, still looking at her tablet.

 

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on,” Sam asked, putting down the scoreboard. “Or are y’all just going to be broody and mysterious.”

 

“I like mysterious.” Natasha took a sip from her mug, pausing. “But if I must--you’ve noticed how Steve and James are totally gone on each other, right?”

 

“Well yeah,” Sam shrugged. “I have eyes.”

 

“Hmm.” She took another mouthful of coffee. “And you saw how they must’ve had a fight a couple days ago.”

 

Sam nodded.

 

“But now they seem totally fine,” she looked over at him from the brink of her cup. “And Steve winced when he sat down.”

 

Sam’s brow furrowed, and slowly but surely, his eyes widened. “No,” he stuttered, “you guys--you guys really fucking _betted on it?”_

 

“Well,” Stark’s voice perked up from the floor. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m never going to be able to get that image out of my head.” Sam put his hand over his eyes and sighed.

 

Clint shrugged. “Is it really the worse image you could have? I mean,” he looked down at Stark for support. “They’re attractive people.”

 

“You’re not wrong there.” Stark reached out his hand and Clint hauled him off the floor. “You think they’d be into threesomes?”

 

“This is _fucked up._ This: fucked up.” Sam grabbed the marker and shoved on the cap, eyeing the others with a sense of disdain.

 

“We get our kicks where we can Sam.” Natasha finished her coffee in one gulp. She rose up from her stool and put her cup in the sink.

 

Sam lifted the board under his arm, grumbling as he left the room. “At least Steve’s finally getting laid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. What a ride has this been. I'm eternally grateful to the people who took the time to write comments and leave kudos--it means the world to me. I'm currently working on a pt. 2 for this fic, so y'all will see more of these idiots in due time. 
> 
> I want to say thank you again to all the lovely people who supported this fic. I love you all so very very much, from the bottom of my very soul.
> 
> Kudos, criticism and comments are totally welcome and appreciated!!!


End file.
